


Precious boy

by BunnyJess



Series: SladeRobin Week 2020 [6]
Category: DCU, Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Accidental Relationship, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Anal Fingering, Damian is well trained, Dick is whinny, Implied Sexual Content, Jason gets spoiled, Jason is 17, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, New Relationship, Slade gets a new slave, Slade saves Jason, This one aint like the others, mentions of past rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:41:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27244387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BunnyJess/pseuds/BunnyJess
Summary: Day three of Sladin week – arranged marriage, bounty on robin(s), slavery.Slade already had a handful of slaves to make his life easier; Damian keeps the house up to standard, Tim has helped expand his business, and Dick is there to spar with him when he wants to let his emotions out without harming anyone. He didn’t think he’d need anyone else. He isn’t like most slave owners who use them for their own pleasure, he can pick up people from bars for that. The auction had been a spur of the moment thing, a way to keep an eye on the company’s rivals. Except, then a thin teen with heterochromia is led onto the stage. Something inside Slade shifts and he knows this slave has to come home with him. No matter the cost.
Relationships: Jason Todd/Slade Wilson
Series: SladeRobin Week 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1985017
Comments: 5
Kudos: 80
Collections: SladeRobin Week 2020





	Precious boy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dnky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dnky/gifts), [dxs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dxs/gifts).



This wasn’t how it was meant to be. It was never meant to be _this_. When Slade had seen the boy on the auction block bidding had been automatic. He liked his toy black haired and blue eyes, younger than him, and he had three of them back at home. Still, the boy with the heterochromatic eyes had lured him in. Hand flying up in a vicious bidding war.

He’s never lost to Brucie Wayne before and he wasn’t about to start now.

The boy had been his for a tidy sum. Cheaper than any of his other boys due to his background and being younger than when he’d gotten them. None of that mattered to Slade. A slave from the streets could be just as good as one from an elite training school like Damian, his eldest slave, was.

In the car on the way home, Jason tucked into his side and sleeping softly, Slade had felt the shift. This wasn’t just any other slave under his arm. He wasn’t going to be like Dickie, used for his acrobatics and providing an outlet for when Slade needed a fight. Nor would he be Timmy, clever little Timmy, who devoured information on businesses and the stock market like it was unlimited candy pushing Slade’s family business to greater heights. His new boy would be an exception especially with Dami. The eldest of Slade’s male slaves he was attentive and, through a wall of objection, had come to love Timmy and Dickie in a way. Always there when his master had a need. Caring for the house to a standard that left guests drooling.

No, Jason would be very special indeed.

The young boy, his documents suggested he was sixteen-to-seventeen, was currently Slade’s youngest acquisition. That cunning smirk he’d flashed on the podium returned to his mind. A smirk that had destroyed any chance Slade of keeping Jason just as stress relief. Another to fight when Dick just wasn’t enough.

“Wintergreen!” Slade called from the rear seat.

“Yes my liege? Drawled the Englishman. The picture of false innocence, he’d come with the family estate and had always been truthful with Slade. A rare skill amongst those that surrounded the billionaire.

“Swing by the mall will you. I need to get Jason some things.” Slade brushed a hand through Jason’s hair as he spoke. Eyes glued to how the boy tilted into the touch, yearned for it almost. The soft sigh he let out as Slade continued to scratch his scalp and the back of his neck.

He received no reply from Wintergreen. The Wilson butler used to the family and Slade in particular, even following him into the forces to continue watching over the lad. Now back to driving him around and doing lunch.

When they reached the mall Jason moved to lay on the seat. Expecting to stay in the car to sleep or be forced to wait outside. When Slade urged him up and out the confusion on his face was clear as day. Jason was so much more expressive than his first two slaves. Something special about him that Slade hadn’t seen before.

He brushed those black and white curls out of the younger’s face. Tilting his face up so he could meet those blue and green eyes. “I can’t get you clothes if you don’t come with me.”

Jason shuddered at his words and pressed closer. Unable to resist his new master’s broad chest it seemed to Slade. “Sorry Master, I didn’t understand.” His voice was so small. A smaller flash of fear darting through him from the intense gaze and failing already just made Slade was to wring some necks.

Jason might have been a slave but Slade could already see he was special, more special than the Middle Eastern based business he’d taken over recently. It had never had a CEO that wasn’t of al Ghul blood; then Slade had performed a textbook hostile takeover and it now had its first Wilson at the head.

Giving into his desires in ways he hasn’t ever with a slave, his boys for everything except physical pleasure, Slade presses a kiss to his lips. Smiling as Jason responded just as gently. Coaxing his mouth open and swiping up his first taste of Jason had Slade wanting more. Stepping forward to crowd Jason against the car.

“I don’t want you doing this just because of my status.” Slade whispered. Breath ghosting over Jason’s and making his boy shiver. “I want you only when you want me.”

It’s with a surprised gasp that his boy follows that has their lips meeting again. Thin arms hooking over his shoulders and holding Slade close. He knows what most people use their slaves for, he’s seen them at the parties and in business meetings. He’d just never seen the need. He had plenty of people willing to fall into bed with him so why take one of his boys when they could spend that time looking after the house or his kids, or furthering his business?

He took the boy’s hand, leading the way into the high-end shopping plaza. Boutiques and designers filling every storefront. Jason’s baggy, dirty, and formerly cream tunic pointed him out as a slave. One purchased recently too, not that anyone truly batted an eye.

Society had been split almost in two for as long as humans had existed. Being a slave was a genetic factor, hence why Damian was currently cleaning his home and not lounging around as an heir to his father. He’d been shipped off to a training school as soon as the blood work came back and sold to Slade upon his graduation.

He was no better than Dickie because of his parents. Both had been trained to serve. The older one just happened to have been the Wayne heir until the blood work came back. That role now occupied by his and Talia’s adopted daughter Cassandra.

People still managed to slip through the cracks though. Unregistered births never going through that testing process leading to slaves like Jason. All the skill and instruction he could need beaten into him to form a trauma patch over the missing decade and a half of proper tutelage. Beating him into a submissive state that shocked Slade to see. That small bit of touch by a gentle hand instead of a firm one had caused uncertainty to flicker to life. Broken down at first by Slade hauling him out the door.

Shopping for his boy was difficult. Every sales person wanted to dress him in the tunics and robes that slaves usually wore. That his other three boys wore. The only problem with all that is that Slade could spot Jason’s discomfort with the items a mile off. A pair of jeans, one suit, and a handful of t-shirts or shirts from the first ten shops. Not the best success margins but he’s survived worse odds.

Next up had been Olivia Von Halle, a women’s designer who happens to make some of the softest tracksuits known to mankind. It’s there they find a rhythm, getting Jason the Missy London tracksuit and the Gia London hoody in three colours; red, green, and blue. He makes sure the tags are removed and Jason is wearing the tracksuit before leaving the shop.

No-longer dressed as a slave, Slade finds getting Jason clothes easier. The stranger won’t lead then to the racks of servants clothing and leave. Oh no. They couldn’t possibly do that.

Now it’s all attentive sales people and clothes coming out the ass.

Spoiling his boy feels natural, feels right. Watching how Jason blushes as the sales people show him items from full suits to lingerie. They don’t just stick to clothes assigned to men either, something about that blush making Slade want to see his boy in some red or purple lace, silk french knickers, stockings and suspenders, maybe even a little neglige just sliding over his small frame. 

They get back to the car hours later. Everything being taken to the house by the workers, all except the tracksuit Jason is still wearing and the book he’s gripping in a white-knuckled hold. Leaning against Slade’s side as they sit through the ride home.

By the time they pull up Jason’s fast asleep. Deep, even breaths puffing from between those plush lips Slade wants ~~needs~~ to see stretched around his cock.

He rouses him just enough to get Jason from the car. Scooping his new boy into his arms, ignoring the protest and surprised squeak. “Don’t worry baby, I’ve got you.” His voice rumbles through Jason and Slade notices how it settles him. His boy’s head resting against his shoulder and a hand clasping his top.

“Wha’, Sla-Master?” Jason looked up at him, black lashes blinking over those gorgeous mismatched eyes. “Sorry, I’ve only been kept in cages for a few years. Lots of walking.” That beautiful red blush appeared again as he realised he’d let slip a portion of his training. It was common practice to cage a slave if they were acting out, however, some of the bad trainers would cage slaves 24/7 and assault them in multiple different ways even after they embraced their most submissive nature.

Damian opened the door as Slade walked up the steps, his lips ghosting over Jason’s forehead. “Not to worry pet, you’ll be free to do whatever you like now.” His voice clear for Damian to hear.

“Welcome home Master. May I take your coat and belongings?” Damian’s prim accent was clear. His school ensuring he had no discernible accent to enable sales further than Gotham.

Slade ignored his eldest slave, a not wholly uncommon act, focused on getting Jason into the house and into a soothing bath. “Run me a bath. Now!” Slade snapped as he kicked off his shoes and walked up to his bedroom.

Tim’s head popped out of the office. Papers were clutched in his hand and he had that manic look on his face that usually meant he’d caught wind of a deal Slade could sneak around and steal a company or contract. Usually Slade would stop. He’d listen to everything Tim said and would follow everything up. Only then allowing his slave to start the process.

He continued walking. Ignoring the fallen expression. Never had Slade ignored Tim in such a way. Always choosing to listen as his business know-how was almost as good as professionals.

Today wasn’t a day for business. It was a day for his new boy, and only his new boy.

Sensing movement as soon as he stepped into his bedroom, a place the slaves had to ask to enter, he threw his leg up in a strong kick. There was a grunt followed quickly by the sound of Dickie hitting the wall. Crumbling into a heap on the plush carpet.

“Timothy.” Slade called down to the other slave. The boy scuttled up to him, papers still clasped in his hand as if Slade was going to change his mind. “Take Richard and clean out the slave room connected to my rooms. Use the servants entrances and do not disturb me while I help Jace bathe.”

Tim gave him a confused look as he carefully stepped around him and helped Dickie to his feet. Whispering to the man he saw as a younger brother as he threw the younger‘s arm over his shoulder. One hand on his back and the other rubbing at his chest.

“Why? Just, why Master? You’ve never used those rooms before.” Dick managed to get out around his gasping breaths. Pain lancing through his ribs and head dizzy.

Slade sneered. He’d clearly been giving them too much freedom if Dickie felt like he could question him. Him! The Master of the Wilson family.

“None of you are special enough.” He glances down and saw that Jason had settled back into a doze. He marched over to Dickie and Tim and pinned them to the wall with his intimidating bulk and iron stare. “Question me again and I’ll show you how I believe slaves should be punished. Only Jason is allowed to question me or deny my requests. You _will_ clean out that room and ensure it’s perfect for Jason, then return to your duties under Prime Slave. Understood?” His voice was cold, as hard as the steely look in his one remaining good eye.

They didn’t speak. Just stood frozen against the wall. Eyeing their exits and Jason. “I said understood _Slaves_?” The title shocked them.

Never in all their time under Slade had they been called anything other than their names. Their Master a kind man who purchased slaves as a way to save them from the uses other people had for them. All of his jobs devoid of any sexual leanings, focused purely on the betterment of his family and company.

The duo eyed the obvious slave in Slade’s arms. Something about them had made him change his mind. Some connection they’d clearly lacked.

Their focus broke as Damian emerged from the bathroom, already walking to the hidden service door that led to the narrow passage behind every room. Dipping his head at Slade and appearing more settled than they’d ever really seen him.

“The Bath is run Master. I hope it isn’t too presumptuous of me, I’ve added a number of healing oils and salts to the bath and placed a nutrition rich drink on the counter.” His voice grated on the middle two. His training coming through perfectly as he kept his gaze on the floor and spoke quiet enough that he’d not disturb Slade if he chose to ignore him.

“That’s a good idea. Keep up that regimen until the doctors can assess,” Jason began to twist and fight, the youngest slave having woken when Slade had growled at the middle two. Slade presses a kiss to Jason’s head and hums. “Calm baby, they’re trusted and won’t do anything without me there. I promise you Jason, no one will harm you here. Not even I. I will keep my hands to myself if that is what you wish.” The boy settles at the soft rumble. Forehead tipping against Slade’s neck as he tries to hide. Body curled as tight as it would go.

A snap of Damian’s fingers have the other three looking towards him. Where Tim and Dick stand straighter, their respective training regimes instilling it in them on a subconscious level, Jason flinches hard and would have fallen from Slade’s grasp had he not had a secure hold on him. The response has them perplexed, added with the way Jason reacted to the mention of doctors they can only assume he’d been ‘trained’ in an unlicensed facility where the behaviours of old were still used. People like them responded best to positive reinforcement, negative pushing them into their shell and making them almost useless. Easier to _serve_ in some ways but next to pointless in every other aspect of their roles.

Slade, once again, fixes them with a glare. His face smoothing out once they’ve left and he’s alone with Jason once again. Rumbling softly to him and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

Both are hit with a potent aromatic scent as soon as they step into the bathroom. The combination Damian used should help relax the anxious line of tension through Jason’s shoulders, if nothing else.

He sets his boy on his feet. Hand running through his hair, no longer matted from how often he’s done so. Already imagining how soft it really is going to feel.

The tracksuit comes off and Slade gets his first good look at the boy’s body. Bruises and cuts in various stages of healing intermingle with the heinous number of scars. Some old enough to point to an unhappy childhood while others are clearly caused by his time with his trainers.

He holds out his hand and helps guide Jason into the water. Settling him down so he can sit tightly hugging his knees. The position is fine for what Slade wishes to do.

“May I wash your back and hair?” The question startles the poor lad. A pang of sympathy born from years of military service and the horrors he’d witnessed stabs Slade in the heart.

Jason drops his head back to his knees while keeping an eye peaking out to see Slade. A hushed yes his only answer. It’s an answer that’s all Slade wanted to hear.

He uses a spare cup, usually used for his toothbrush, to like the water over those curls. The length reaching his shoulders as the water straightens it out. Lathering his hands comes next and Slade doesn’t stop explaining the whole process. Touch as gentle as he can make it as he cleans up his boy.

When his hair is drenched in conditioner Slade moved onto his back. The washcloth gentler than any the trainers would have used. The grime sticking to his skin washing away and uncovering further bruises.

“My baby boy, whatever did they do to you?” Slade knows it’s a rhetorical question as soon as he’s asked it. It’s clear from the sight of the boy fully clothed. Far too skinny and scarred to hell.

Quietly, so quiet that if Slade wasn’t attuned to everything in the room Jason begins to talk. He tells him of his parents, a slave and her abusive owner, an unfortunate outcome for far too many people with that different in make-up. Childhood filled with fear, his father abusive towards him after his mother passed away. The man eventually ending up in prison after trying to steal another person’s slave to use as he saw fit. The poor boy had run, hiding in the winding streets of the city. Forever on the lookout for anyone who’d want him, still not knowing he was like his mother.

A broken arm and concussion was what had called attention to the authorities of someone his age not in training. One simple blood test turning his life on its head. He’d been dragged from the clinic before his arm was even set. The doctors at the training centre doing so during a _very_ thorougher physical exam. All Jason knew after that was a cell the size of a medium dog crate and pain. So much pain.

“The trainers weren’t as bad as the doctors.” His voice cracks. Slade can guess it’s the most the boys spoken since before his mother died. From what he’d said she was a good woman who’d only ever tried to keep him safe; better than some parents out there. “They’d…they… _please_ Master,” he trails off and Slade can see the terrified panic and foreboding acceptance in his frame.

“No doctor, no person, will ever hurt you again Jace. You’re mine now, and I will never touch you without your permission. You can’t help how you’re born, all I can do is give you a good life.” He brushes a hand down Jason’s back and feels the shudder work through his frame. The way the boy relaxes at the touch, calming him down.

A list of everything Slade needs to do for this poor boy. Trauma counselling he’s going to have to pay under the table for, the government under the illusion slaves can’t understand trauma. An entire subset of the population treated as nothing more than dim children their entire lives. He also needs to sort out a nutrition programme so the boy can pack some meat on his bones. His body too thin after so many years on the streets and then treated like an animal.

Then there is ensuring Jason knows he won’t hurt him, that none of the people in the house will. Slade isn’t to sure he can make that promise for Tim and Dickie, not yet, not after the way they’d looked at Jason with jealousy and hatred. He’s going to have to be firm with them without Jason witnessing it. The last thing he wants is to make his boy worse.

Late into that first night, Slade hears a door open. It’s the sound of wood against the carpet, not the creaking is the service entrance or his main door. It’s new noise in his home letting him know it’s Jason’s door.

He sits up and watches through the slim sliver of daylight as Jason stands on the threshold. Fidgeting with his nightshirt and shuffling his feet. Clearly needing something but unwilling to risk Slade’s ire by asking.

“Come here lad,” Slade says. He can hear how thick with sleep his voice is. Shuffling over in bed so Jason can join him. The small teen slipping into bed with him and curling into him. Slade’s strong arms holding him tight.

There is a quiet sniffle as the body against his chest begins to shake. Tears silent in the darkness. Bony fingers tangling with Slade’s.

He begins to soothe the boy. A rumbled hum coming from deep in his chest. The sound pairing with how his breath puffs through the fluffy curls. Jason’s hair exactly the way Slade had thought it would be. Soft against his face.

They lay there while Jason cries then calms. Body going limp in Slade’s arms and squirming back. Falling to sleep quickly now he feels safe.

For two months that’s their routine. They spend every day together. Talking, reading, and going into Slade’s office. The teen keeping close to his side as they meet everyone and Tim runs ahead already deep into work. At night Jason starts in his own bed. Shuffling to join Slade well into the night. It’s palpable, to Slade, the relief he feels at never finding the other slaves used how he had been.

After two months Slade makes them both give up all pretends. Scooping his boy up and carrying him to bed. Settling him in his own and climbing in after. Taking Jason into his arms and holding him close.

It’s around that time that his interest in books really comes out. Devouring the three Slade had gotten that first day over and over. Finally building up the nerve to mention it to Slade one night.

“What’s on your mind?” Slade asks before Jason can work himself into a tizzy and never ask.

“Oh, um, it’s just, I’ve finished my books so many times now. I’d love a new one, if that wouldn’t be too much of an imposition.” Jason rolls over to look up at Slade, those eyes that had drawn him in at the auction glittering through thick, dark lashes. “Actually, never mind, I’m happy with all I have.” To make his point he rests across Slade’s chest, head pillowed over his heart and listening. Slade’s hand moves automatically, cupping the back of Jason’s head and tangling his fingers in his curls.

Two days later Slade ushers Jason into his former room. The space has changed. Gone is the bed and other furniture, all replaced by bookshelves and a comfortable reading spot stuffed with pillows. A fire crackles in the hearth and catches on the pale wood and glittering covers of many a rare find. Two thirds of the shelves are filled, the final third for Jason to fill with his own books in the future.

It’s with a gleam in his eye as he watches Jason roam the room, lost in a trance at all he’s been gifted, that Slade turns to his Prime Slave. “Damian, you and the others have outdone yourselves. Thank you.”

The man bobs his head without raising his eye level to meet Slade’s. “The other two are beginning to become unsettled Master. They seem to believe you are no longer going to care for them as you do.”

Slade watched his eldest slave bite his lip, suddenly fearing he’d spoken out of turn. He looked towards Jason, ensuring his boy was too far to hear him and was suitably distracted. “Then you can tell them I will happily sell them to anyone willing to buy them, no matter how they’d be treated, if they no longer wish to be under my care. If anything happens to Jason then they will also lose me as their owner as I’ll report them to the bureau.” He took no pleasure in the ripple of fear that traveled through Damian. It wasn’t a threat he made lightly, he just refused to risk Jason’s future happiness because of two slaves who thought themselves above their biology.

The bureau was the highest form of enforcement when it came to those with the ‘inferior’ genetic makeup. Widely known to punish those reported for disobedience with either electroshock therapy, it was worse for slaves dragged in by their owner for failing to perform the duties required of them. Seen as defective or unable to think rationally, they were put to death and their bodies incinerated or studied. No slave, no matter how combative would want to be handed over by an owner.

It all meant that Slade’s threat would cause one of two reactions. Either; Tim and Dickie would stop causing him problems and return to their work; or, they would try to run. If they tried to run the bureau would find them within the week, every slave fitted with a neuromuscular tracking device to prevent escapes. Powerful enough to release multiple charges with the hope of bringing them down, they were the last line of defence against the unruly.

On top of all that Slade had the three eldest fitted with devices similar in design to their other ones, these ones attached to the cervical vertebra with wires slipping between disks to rest close to the spine to cause paralysis when triggered. An outcome that wasn’t certain with their secondary government mandated one. There was no way to block the signal or remove the devices. Removal would trigger it to explode before they even got it far enough back towards the surface.

“I shall pass your message along Master.” With that he slipped away.

Slade didn’t care much, his attention already returned to Jason. The boy seemed so much happier and more carefree than that first day. Laughing and smiling when they were home or alone in the office. He’d even accepted Slade’s request to use his name and not call him Master, it was what he’d always made the other boys call him and hearing it from Jason just seemed wrong.

He isn’t expecting the response the library receives when Jason realises they’re alone. His boy runs across the space and leaps into his arms, Slade catching him easily, and presses their lips together.

For all of a second he’s frozen. Then he’s moving one of his hands to cup Jason’s face and kisses back. Licking the seam of Jason’s mouth gets a gasp from him, a perfect chance for Slade to slip his tongue in. Kissing his boy deeply, drawing breathless noises from him.

The break for air, Jason resting his forehead against Slade’s as he keeps his eyes shut. The soft smile the older man can see gives life to butterflies in his stomach. It’s so genuine, as if Jason couldn’t be happier with his life than when he’s in Slade’s arms.

He moves across the room, carefully sitting in the reading nest and settling Jason so he’s straddling his lap instead of squeezing his waist with those deceptively strong legs of his. Slade cups a hand to Jason’s face again, the boy leaning into the touch. Even going to far as to turn his face enough to press a kiss to Slade’s wrist.

“Fuck Jace,” whispered reverence as those lids finally flutter open and Slade worries for heartbeat that the soft smile is going to disappear. Instead it’s joined by a bright blush as Jason shifts in his lap, hips unintentionally pressing against his hardening cock. He manages to bite back his moan, only because he doesn’t want his boy to feel like he has to do anything he doesn’t want to. He goes to talk when Jason leans in and kisses him again.

Thin, nimble fingers thread into his hair and scratch his neck and scalp. His own pulling Jason closer while simultaneously tilting his head for a better angle. Physically the kiss is the same as the first, just as deep, only the raw emotion behind it is deeper some how. His boy showing him with his body that which they’re both unable to fully name yet.

That magnetism that drew him in at the auction hasn’t ever left. Growing stronger and stronger with every passing day. Their worlds slowly starting to orbit around each other in a way that could be disastrous while having the potential to be extraordinary.

The months continue to fly by. Soft kisses shared each morning and night while laying in bed shifting to less discreet ones around the house. The library door is always open, the smell of old and new books combining with the wood fire to was any stress away from the pair.

Tim and Dick make no further complaints, at least none that Slade has witnessed and Damian nor Wintergreen had reported any to him. Still, it worries him. His boy is too precious to him to have to go through the others’ bullying just because Slade wanted him in ways an owner wasn’t meant to want a slave.

They were meant to serve, not be seen as equals, as relationship material, they were meant to be used and of use. He’d face so much backlash if it came out, his other boys the only way it could. They’d been so careful. An owner wasn’t meant to love…

Slade’s brain screeched to a halt at that realisation. He’d known how fond of Jason he was, he just hadn’t considered…not after Addie. Not after losing Grant, his baby boy used and abused by an owner who didn’t agree with how Grant had been trained. The awful news had broken him and Addie, their marriage failing and both never having a serious relationship again.

The older man was so wrapped in his thoughts, paperwork forgotten on the desk in front of him and Tim curled up at his desk which was at a height where he was forced to sit on the floor. It would have been seen as improper to have Tim at his desk and they had too many business meetings at work to take the risk at home and get out of the habit. Business trundling along as Slade leaned back and contemplated everything that had happened.

It was the sound of his office door creaking open that broke Slade from his thoughts. His handsome boy looking ethereal with the sunlight glowing behind him. A very distracting sight.

Jason bounded over, more confident than he’d been before the library. The physical evidence of Slade’s progress with getting through his walls. The boy stopping just as he reaches the edge Slade’s side.

“I’m not interrupting or bothering am I Timmy?” Jason didn’t ask Slade, for Jason Slade always had time. It had taken so long to get anywhere close to friendly with the other slaves that he didn’t want to intrude on their time serving Slade. Although he’d spoken to them at length with how he didn’t understand how he served Slade when he wasn’t used sexually and didn’t do work around the house or office. It was as if Slade wanted him to just enjoy himself and nothing more.

“You’re not interrupting anything. To interrupt would mean Slade would have to have been working and not just staring into space.” There was a teasing undertone that hadn’t been missing a month ago. Life finally settled down as the older three realised that even Jason had no clue as to why he was there.

“Oh good. Come along then,” he grabbed Slade’s hand and dragged him from the office in a move most owners wouldn’t allow their slaves to perform. That familiarity unwelcome between societies supposed betters and the slaves that kept them alive.

They made it back to the library in record time. Slade collapsing into the cushions and pulling Jay down with him. Lips meeting in a passionate kiss.

Hesitation and an underlying fear fill Jason. The move obvious where he’s spread across Slade’s lap. Those interestingly odd eyes meeting his single one.

“I needed you Master.” His voice is back to the quiet tone he’d had initially. Always there to pop up and remind them both of the horrors Jason was subjected to.

“You have me Little Bird, always.” Slade reassures. Eyes dropping to the blush that blooms across Jason’s face.

“Know that, ‘m not stupid.” He leant in closer as if divulging a secret. “I need you _here_.”

The young slave took Slade’s hand and guided it to his more rounded ass. Giving the sweat covered rump a squeeze as he waited for more.

The silence earned him an eye roll and Jason leaning back. His own cock hard and leaving a growing damp patch there. His hold on Slade’s wrist enabling him to move it into position. His fingertips pressing and rubbing against his hole.

“Please Slade.”

He gave in and flipped their positioning. Stealing the breath from Jason as he kissed him senseless. Letting his hand work it’s way under those joggers to the already damp hole there. His grin turning feral as he realised his boy had prepped himself.

As he pushed in two fingers, feeling the give around them while still being tight, his fingers thicker than Jason’s by a fiat margin, he pulled back. “Did you think of me?”

“You’re all I think of.” His boy whined as he spread his hole open, fingers scissoring while opening him up.

He’d never been able to deny his boy a thing, why should he stop now. That’d just be a failing on his part. His boy needing him and refusing would break his boy. That couldn’t do. He would _not_ fail the boy like so many before him had. Not when those heterochromatic eyes become lust drunk and three little words are whispered on the wind. His boy was here to stay, so he’d make it his duty to fulfil every need Jason has.


End file.
